


i (i had me a boy)

by amosanguis



Series: a/b/o AUs [14]
Category: Justified
Genre: Alpha Boyd Crowder, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Blood, Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, M/M, Omega Raylan Givens, Rough Sex, Title from a Country Song, Unhealthy Relationships, mentions of teens having the sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29772273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amosanguis/pseuds/amosanguis
Summary: They're eleven years old on the day Boyd Crowder declares himself Raylan's alpha and Raylan punches him in the face for it.
Relationships: Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens
Series: a/b/o AUs [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/347192
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	i (i had me a boy)

**Author's Note:**

> The sex the teens are having is not described in detail and only mentioned in passing. It doesn't get explicit until later and the boys are older.

> _I, I had me a boy_   
>  _Who buttoned me down_   
>  _Threw me a line_   
>  _He, he washed me as clean_   
>  _As a sinner could be  
>  Showed me the light_   
>  _Ooo that boy, he taught me to pray_   
>  _But for all of his spit-shinin' ways_   
>  _Lord, he could_
> 
> _Oooooooo_   
>  _Ooooooohhhhohhhh_

The Civil Wars

-z-

They’re eleven years old on the day Boyd Crowder declares himself Raylan’s alpha and Raylan punches him in the face for it.

In front of the entire school.

Boyd licks the blood from his lip and says, “Yes, you’ll do me just fine. You’ll be Mother to my pups.”

Raylan punches him again.

They fight ー scrapping in the dirt, spitting blood and curses on each other and each other’s kin.

And for a while, that’s all they know what to do with each other.

-

But then there’s a day, three years on, when they’re fourteen, when Raylan’s out fishing and Boyd comes up behind and puts his nose to Raylan’s neck and, in the space of a blink, they’ve got their fists curled and Boyd’s dropped fang and Raylan does the same. Raylan’s canine’s are smaller than Boyd’s, but he’s gotten taller since their first fight.

They crash together and land in the river, shouting and snarling, as usual ー then there’s a moment, a moment where Raylan’s got Boyd’s head under the water, Boyd’s nails ー sharpened into claws ー are scraping into Raylan’s forearms ー except they’re not breaking skin.

Raylan snarls to himself and jumps away, let’s Boyd’s head break through water.

For a moment, they stare at each other, breathing hard, their blood coloring the river red. And when Raylan turns his back to Boyd and wades towards the shore, he tells himself he didn’t give up, didn’t give in, he tells himself he’s not a coward, he tells himself that they just need a break.

Because if Boyd can hold back, then Raylan can, too.

Raylan follows him out of the river and has the sense not to gloat, but he does strip himself of his wet clothes and lays out on the bank.

Raylan snarls at him before crossing the river. And, because he’s feeling daring, he strips, too, and lays out, feels the sun and Boyd’s gaze both warming his skin.

Raylan’s fifteen when the government makes suppressants a right instead of a privilege.

He takes the first pill and doesn’t feel any different. At least, not right away.

By the third dose on the third day, Raylan feels like he’s under water ー feels like Boyd must’ve felt that day at the river, with Raylan’s hands around his throat and unable to come up for air.

“I don’t like it,” he says to Aunt Helen.

But Arlo growls a warning, “No one asked you what you liked. You’ll take ‘em and not stink up this house.”

Helen puts a hand in his hair and can do nothing, say nothing, so she gives a soft, sad smile and sets to making him dinner (not his favorite, though, that’d be too suspicious, and Arlo’d simply throw it out and scream at Helen for _coddling_ Raylan).

The first time he sees Boyd after starting the suppressants, Boyd curls his lips and goes to stick his nose in Raylan’s neck.

Raylan snarls out of habit, but there’s nothing behind it and he doesn’t even lift his fists.

“This is fucked up,” Boyd says, his nostrils flaring as he jerks away from Raylan.

Raylan stares at Boyd, tries to remember what he’s supposed to be doing, feeling, saying. But things are muddled ー his senses have been slashed and he’s still trying to adjust, trying to find his feet ー even after a month.

Eventually Raylan settles on, “Indeed, it is.”

Boyd narrows his eyes.

“You _will_ be mine,” Boyd says. “I _will_ breed you.”

Raylan laughs, hollow and empty, says, “Not today, you won’t.” Then he steps around Boyd and heads into school.

They stop coming to blows after the suppressants, and soon discover that there’re other ways to communicate.

Like using their words instead of their fists.

It was an intriguing concept that, once he’s adjusted to the suppressants, Raylan finds he’s not altogether opposed. And neither is Boyd, though he complains ー loud and often ー about Raylan’s lack of scent.

-

This time, they’re sixteen lyin’ about being eighteen (Raylan adds in another lie about being a beta, that Boyd backs up) and the man behind the desk, with clean hands and a tie around his neck, pretends to believe them as he signs their paperwork.

Boyd yells, “Fire in the hole!”

Raylan whoops and ducks behind cover.

They’re seventeen and a day the first time the mountain comes down on their heads. The second time, they’re nineteen ー a year and some out of high school and goin’ nowhere fast; only fuckin’ to spite their daddies and maybe each other.

It’s tedious work unburying someone and an hour quick becomes three becomes ten becomes twelve becomes forty-eight.

They find Boyd with his fangs in the back of Raylan’s neck, the both of them feral.

And bonded.

Raylan wakes to Aunt Helen at his bedside, a tincture in one hand and a suitcase of money at her feet.

“Do you really want to whelp a Crowder?” she asks, holding out the vial.

Raylan takes the vial.

“Do you really want to risk it happening again?” she asks, kicking out the suitcase.

Raylan takes the suitcase.

Raylan doesn’t let himself touch his Claiming bite until he’s completely out of Kentucky. The wound is still raw, still bleeding. His alpha would typically still be tending to it. But Boyd had still been sedated and they hadn’t let Raylan in ー said it’d be too much, that trauma bondings were unstable. Raylan didn’t stick around to ask for more information.

Raylan pulls over the truck somewhere down in Georgia, feeling quite unstable himself. He feels a scream building in his throat but, somehow, he swallows it down.

Raylan keeps that scream swallowed for twenty years.

-

There’s something to be said, they say, about a claimed omega with no alpha nor pups in sight.

Raylan cannot call himself a Mother, he wears no wedding band, bears no scent of the one who’d left the Claim on the back of his neck. Funny thing, too, about the Claim ー he didn’t need suppressants, and without his alpha around to trigger a heat, Raylan didn’t have to worry about that either.

Lucky for him ー he’s tall, and not many people can see the Claim.

But those that do, they check for his other markers ー Mother, married, alpha ー and, finding nothing, they look at him with pitying eyes and assume him widowed. Which, for all he knows, he very well could be ー because Boyd’s sure as shit never came looking for him.

If he had, if Boyd ever did show up at his front door, Raylan’s not sure what he’d do. He thinks about it ー less now than he used to, when he was young still. He used to picture it一

一Boyd Crowder’s scent ー like Emulex and coal and mountain dirt and Raylan’s blood ー wafting in through an open window as Raylan watches TV just before there’s a knock at the door. Boyd crowding in as soon as Raylan opens the door, demanding answers and drawing them from Raylan’s chest with claw and fang, then licking the wounds closed as he bends Raylan over his own couch and takes him there. Their snarls and grunts drifting out the window for all the world to hear.

一Raylan stepping out of class just to find Boyd leaning against his car, the promise of a fight in his eyes.

一Boyd breaking down Raylan’s door to snap the neck of whichever alpha Raylan’s got in his bed.

Raylan thinks about the last one a lot. Especially if the alpha’s being too docile, too careful with Raylan ー because they see the Claim but not the other markers and make the assumptions and so on and so on ー and Raylan feels his anger burning in his chest, building alongside that scream, until he drops his fangs and forces the strange alpha to either get with the program or leave.

A surprising number of them leave. Leaving Raylan to think that either a) city alphas were far too delicate, or b) there was something wrong with him himself.

Because he liked it, liked it when Boyd bled him.

Liked it even more after the suppressants because it reminded him to _feel_ something ー even if he didn’t or couldn’t always fight back. Boyd went easier on him on those nights, no matter what Raylan would spit at him. And everytime, when it was over and the sun was just coming up and they were exhausted, even for teenagers, Boyd would clean him, lap up the blood with his tongue.

“Mine,” he’d say. “I may break you, Raylan Givens, but I will always put you back together. Your mine. _Mine_.”

It was only ever during his post-coital bliss that Raylan would tolerate those words ー “ _your mine_ ” ー and Boyd knew it and would take advantage.

-

Art Mullens is the first to look at Raylan and just ask, “What’s your story, son?” instead of making any assumptions.

“Oh, there’s not much to tell,” Raylan answers with a smirk.

“I bet,” Art says, smirking right back.

Boyd never comes for Raylan, but the day Raylan receives a small box ー a silver ring with a horseshoe, what would’ve been their tenth anniversary just around the corner ー Raylan realizes that it’s just because Boyd’s waiting for Raylan to return on his own.

Art looks at the ring and Raylan, smiling, holds it up so it catches the light.

“A gift,” he says, “from my alpha.”

“I’ve got to meet ‘em,” Art says, practically begging.

Raylan looks at Art and says with a shrug, “I don’t know where he is.” He looks back at his ring. “He clearly found me, though.”

Art’s eyes narrow.

Raylan smiles at him once more, before he walks away.

-

Raylan is sent down to Miami and thanks the good Lord above that the people down here aren’t as nosy as they are in the other places he’s been.

It’s altogether a quiet time for him.

He does his job and he does it well ー he’s, for the most part, settled in his skin but for the occasional welling-up of that long swallowed scream.

But then Tommy Bucks happens.

Tommy Bucks, who leans over the table with a sneer twisting his lips, “I don’t take orders from an abandoned omega ー I don’t care how pretty they are.”

Raylan smirks, flutters his eyelashes and asks, “You think I’m pretty?”

Then Tommy goes for his gun and Raylan his.

-

Twenty goddamned years and when Art Mullins hands him a file with Boyd’s picture in it, Raylan holds it up and says to him, “Meet my alpha.” At Art’s horrified expression, Raylan holds up a finger and says, “In my defense, he wasn’t a white supremist when we bonded.” Raylan turns the file a little bit, so he can look at the picture, “He still blew shit up, however. He just used to get paid to do it for the mine.”

“Looks like he got a better offer,” Art says.

“Indeed it does,” Raylan says with a sigh. Then he closes the file and stands.

“Where’re you going?” Art calls after him.

“Gotta go find my alpha,” Raylan calls back, ignoring the sudden swivel of all the heads in the office in his direction.

That swallowed scream, twenty years old now, wells up in chest as he pulls up the drive to that derelict church.

As soon as he entered Harlan, Raylan knew where to go ー an internal compass pointing his nose in the right direction, his Claim throbbing on the back of his neck.

Raylan pulls up in front of the church and begins the long walk up, but he’s barely out of his car when Boyd comes flying out, arms spread wide and a grin on his face. Boyd’s hands are on either side of Raylan’s face, knocking Raylan’s hat to the ground as he brings Raylan down for a kiss ー it starts chaste, but as all things are between them, it quickly turns violent.

“Fuck you been, huh?” Boyd growls, fingers fisting in Raylan’s hair.

“Here and there,” Raylan answers, grinning, running his tongue over a small cut on the inside of bottom lip courtesy of one of Boyd’s canines.

There’s an indignant squawk somewhere behind Boyd and Raylan can’t help his instinct to shake loose from Boyd and snarl the other omega standing on the church steps.

“Devil,” Boyd says, his arm wrapping around Raylan’s waist as he bodily steps between them. “I suggest you get yourself gone, now.”

“I’m not一” Devil starts, but Raylan’s eyes flash and when he snarls again, this time there’s teeth behind it. Devil weakly snarls back, even as he puts his hands up and slinks away.

Raylan relaxes when, when Devil walks by, there’s not an undo amount of Boyd’s scent on him. (Not that Raylan can really judge, of course, but instinct is instinct.)

Just as Devil crawls into his vehicle, Boyd gets his hand on the back of Raylan’s neck, palm covering the Claim, and something inside Raylan settles like a fresh sheet over a mattress, like flour on the counter before the dough, like soil on a casket.

Boyd drags Raylan into the church and he’s saying, again, “Fuck, Raylan, where you been? Where’ve you been, Raylan?” and “Raylan, Raylan, Raylan” and “goddamn it, you know what you did to me?”

Raylan mews in response to every question ー a whine high in the back of his throat even as he sinks his teeth into the meat of Boyd’s bicep, the whine turning into a vicious snarl at what’s inked there.

They make each other bleed.

Boyd flips Raylan onto his stomach, fucks into him as he pushes Raylan’s face into the dirty couch.

Just before climax, Boyd leans down, plasters himself flat against Raylan’s back, grabs Raylon’s cock and pumps him once, twice, before he buries his fangs into the Claim once more ー and they come together, as two halves of one person finally made whole, locked in place by Boyd’s knot, Boyd spilling into Raylan and filling him up.

Raylan whines, he was full and fit to burst with it, but Boyd just bites down harder, keeps rocking into him.

Then, slowly, Boyd withdraws his fangs, then he sets about with his version of aftercare ー licking Raylan clean and whispering praise and damn Raylan if he can ever remember why he wanted to leave this behind.

Boyd cleans what he can reach, but his knot has yet to deflate, has hardly gone down at all.

“Don’t think there’s a tincture that’ll kill everyone of these pups I’m filling you with,” Boyd whispers, mouthing at the shell of Raylan’s ear. “Don’t care what your hill kin can cook up.”

Raylan groans because he can feel it, feel his biology at work, and laughs into the crook of his arm. Boyd chuckles behind him, too, before moving to lick at the Claim ー obviously relishing this second chance to tend to this particular wound.

“While I got you here,” Raylan says, lifting a hand up behind him as best he can until he’s holding Boyd by the back of the neck, Boyd’s tongue still licking away. “Did you blow up a church recently?”

Boyd stops licking.

“Why, Marshal,” Boyd says, and there’s a sneer in his voice that Raylan doesn’t need to see to know that it’s there, a sneer that’s starting to get Raylan’s blood back up and readying him for either a fight or another fuck, “if that’s what it took to finally get your attention, I’d’ve done it twenty years ago.”

Raylan sits up on his elbows and twists to look at Boyd, says, “I wasn’t a Marshal twenty years ago.”

Boyd waves his hand, as if shooing away the number, “You know what I mean, don’t act stupid with me.” Then his eyes are narrowing. “I take it this means you are not here specifically to _come back_?”

“I was forced back,” Raylan says, lifting a hand to Boyd’s face and swiping his thumb over Boyd’s cheek. “I’ve been,” Raylan sighs, “ _reassigned_ , as it were.”

Something dark passes over Boyd’s eyes ー dark and familiar, something Raylan knows will taste like blood.

“If you didn’t want to come back,” Boyd snarls, “then what the fuck was this?”

Boyd jerks his hips, like he’s about to pull himself out of Raylan ー but Raylan’s not ready to give him up, so he tightens his fingers in Boyd’s hair, clenches himself tighter around Boyd’s knot, and snarls, “You’ll keep that knot right where it is, _alpha_. You’re not tearing me up in a fit of pique.”

“That all?” Boyd snarls, his canines beginning to sharpen.

And it’s not, is it? It’s been twenty years and a hundred daydreams and a thousand nights writhing in want and a million more mornings waking up and yearning after phantom touches that’ll linger throughout the day.

So Raylan means it, and he thinks Boyd hears it, too, when he softens his voice and his touch and he pulls Boyd’s forehead to his. “That’s not all,” Raylan says.

The back of his neck burns and Boyd’s knot has yet to go down, promising to keep them locked until indeed something settles in Raylan’s womb ー and Raylan has questions for Boyd he’ll eventually be needing answers to, but for now, as Boyd scrapes blunt teeth over Raylan’s shoulder, Raylan turns his mind over to only instinct.

Boyd settles his weight over him, wraps his arms over Raylan’s, and nuzzles him. Raylan purrs in contentment.

It’s more difficult than he’d thought it’d be, kissing Boyd good-bye, so he whispers the name of his motel and his room number.

“In case you ever make it up to Lexington,” he whispers against Boyd’s lips.

Boyd’s hands are tight on Raylan’s hips and he says in return, “What makes you think I’m letting you outta Harlan?”

Raylan simply smiles and pulls Boyd up flush against him, Boyd knocking Raylan backwards into his car ー the movement jarring a small bit of semen loose and setting it trickling out, tickling, before it was caught and soaked up by the fabric of Raylan’s underwear.

“I’ll be seeing you again,” Boyd says, his nostrils flaring as he noses at Raylan’s throat. “I won’t rest until you are bred.”

Raylan presses one more kiss to the side of Boyd’s mouth before stepping out of his arms and slides into his car, “You’ve been saying that since we were fifteen, Boyd Crowder.”

“And if you hadn’t run off, Raylan Givens,” Boyd says, hollering as Raylan begins to back out of the drive, “I’d’ve already seen you fat with my whelps.”

Raylan laughs and peels out onto the road, tasting Boyd’s blood and Boyd’s semen in his mouth.

Raylan stops to shower and clean himself out as much as he can ー steadfastly ignoring the instinct to keep as much of Boyd inside himself as he can stand ー before he has to report back to the office.

Art takes one look at him, his nose wrinkling, and says, “I take it you found your alpha?”

Raylan clears his throat and ducks his head down as he settles at his desk. This just leads to Tim standing over him, whistling as he takes in the Claim on the back of Raylan’s neck ー bright and vivid and fresh.

“Looks like y’all missed each other,” Rachel coos.

Raylan covers the Claim with his hands and hits his forehead to his desk with a soft groan.

Art flicks him on the crown of his head and Raylan has no choice but to raise his eyes to take in the alpha. Art asks, “On a more serious note, will you be applying for maternity leave here in the next few months?”

“Um,” is the only answer Raylan can give. “I’ll let you know in a week?”

Art snorts and turns away, mutters something that sounds like, “Just got here and already takin’ a vacation, forgot they put something in the water ‘round here.”

Raylan would worry about being offended, but he was still feeling Boyd in him.

That night, back at his motel, just as he’s drifting to sleep, through an open window the wind blows in a familiar scent just before there’s a knock on the door.

-z-

End


End file.
